The Selfless Fools
by DoydleLlama
Summary: AU. Ichigo Kurosaki is a prodigy, the boy genius who holds the prestigious title of Captain in the military. What happens when Ichigo's sense of duty is jarred by a girl with a height inversely proportional to her mouth, and the world she represents?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Bleach. I can't even begin to describe the horror that would ensue if I did.

* * *

"I keep telling you I don't want to do this," muttered Ichigo as he stared up skeptically at the ramshackle building in front of him. It consisted of one floor that hugged the ground, and a small one at that from what he could see. The brick façade was crumbling along with all the shingles on the roof, and the wooden door hanged loosely on its hinges, unmarked and warped beyond repair. The whole thing looked like it would fall to pieces if he nudged it too hard.

If Ishida hadn't told him, he would have never been able to tell that it was supposed to be for human use, let alone a bar.

"One night, Kurosaki, and then you can go back to your sulking." Ishida responded, an edge of irritation creeping into his voice. He liked Ichigo, he really did, but the man was absolutely insufferable at times. Ichigo's way of solving his problems was to lock them away underneath a mask full of scowls, preferring to suffer in silence instead of talking to anyone about it. Why he did it nobody knew, but it certainly was a bloody pain in the ass for his friends to figure out his problems and keep them in check, especially since he was so damned good at hiding his emotions—a trait that his military training only enhanced. It was taxing, especially on Inoue, whose love for Kurosaki was so blatantly obvious that everybody knew about it except the man himself.

Inoue's taste in men was as dubious as her taste in culinary delights, but Ishida wasn't one to question it if that was what she wanted. So when she had asked him to help her cheer Kurosaki up, Ishida had agreed, and silently resolved to tell Kurosaki of her feelings for him. So the plan was to get Ichigo as drunk as possible so that he would momentarily forget the concept of cooties—Ichigo was hopelessly immature on the woman front—and tell him that Inoue loved him. It would be impossible not to love Inoue after that—it already was, really—and everybody would be happy.

If, of course, Ishida overcame his overwhelming urge to kill Kurosaki. The man was acting like a petulant child already.

Ishida moved to enter the bar, but stopped as he saw Ichigo, still not budging at the entrance. He sighed, and said, "I'll treat you."

Ichigo shrugged and followed Ishida in, relenting. It wasn't his business if Ishida really liked getting drunk in falling down, disease infested shacks.


	2. Chapter 2

The bar turned out not to be such a disappointment—the shack on the surface just housed the stairwell down to the actual bar, which was underground and quite spacious—but Ishida more than made up for it by being a tight-arse in the most relaxed of settings.

Ishida had been pretty stuck up even before he'd joined the military with him and Inoue, but being selected to be part of the Quincy had turned him into a total prat. Granted, being part of some faction in the military reserved for top-notch archers was pretty cool, and from what he had seen of Ishida in action, he really _was_ a fantastic archer, but Ichigo didn't understand how that meant that he needed to sit ramrod straight into his chair and tell the waitress taking orders for their drinks to 'give us your finest.'

If that was not enough, Ishida's idea of conversation was to relentlessly barrage Ichigo with personal questions, like an interrogator determined to prove that the defendant was guilty and then some. When Ichigo, like a sensible person, refused to answer most of his questions, Ishida decided this meant that it was time to insult him.

That was fine, Ishida insulted him in some way or form every day. He could tune that out easy. What wasn't easy to tune out was when Ishida started giving him 'The Talk'.

"As you must know, Kurosaki, there are certain _going-ons_ between men and women of our age involving the nether regions of the human physique. As an example, take you and Ms. Orihime—"

God, it hadn't been this awkward when his _Dad_ had tried to do this, and Isshin Kurosaki was a total pervert. He, at least, hadn't talked about intricacies of the 'human plumbing' and hadn't constantly compared his genitals to that of a close female friend.

Ishida badly needed to loosen up, if nothing because technically, alcohol wasn't allowed in Rukongai. Nobody really cared about Prohibition, but if the other patrons or the bar staff found out that he and Ishida were part of the military, it wouldn't go down well. And the way Ishida was acting, nobody would believe that they weren't part of the military. Best case scenario, they would be thrown out, and that wouldn't bode well with Ichigo. The brand of wine that the government sold was absolutely terrible—he couldn't get drunk off of that if he drank his body weight and then some. Besides, it had a subtle sickly sweet aftertaste to it that he hated.

The bottom line was he needed a better conversational partner. He looked around the bar desperately, until his eyes fixed upon a guy with spiky red hair seated at the back of the bar with a kid. The guy turned his head slightly so that his face was momentarily visible, and Ichigo thanked the lord. This guy was unmistakably Renji Abarai—nobody else would be so stupid as to accentuate a natural punk look with facial tattoos—who he had known throughout his time in the Academy since they shared sleeping quarters. He hadn't spoken to Renji since he had graduated, but unless he had undergone a drastic change in personality, he at least wouldn't try to explain to him how to impregnate a female.

"Renji!" he called across the bar, cutting Ishida off mid-sentence. "Haven't seen you in a while!"

Renji turned towards him, a look of shock on his face. Ichigo was mildly amused that even shocked, Renji looked like a thug. "Captain," answered Renji, and then immediately regretted it.

Ichigo felt as if the entire bar was looking at him. For the utmost time, he cursed how fast news traveled in Rukongai. He hadn't expected the news of the youngest guy to be named captain in the history Sereitei not to travel at all—after all, he wasn't exactly inconspicuous with his decidedly neon orange hair and his characteristic scowl—but he certainly wasn't expecting everybody in the bar to know exactly who he was given a single hint.

So much for not drinking military brand, he thought, his scowl deepening as he saw the burly bartender start to make his way towards them.

"C'mon, Ishida," he growled out. "Time to go."

* * *

They had seated themselves on a riverbank fairly close to the bar, amongst the rustle of waving strands of tall grasses so different from the clipped short ones of the military grounds. The river flowed easily, rippling the reflection of the moon in its depths. The sky was cloudless, a deep dark hue that was blue if you looked closely enough.

Ichigo wasn't looking closely enough, wasn't appreciating anything, because he had no alcohol in his system, and he had promised his system alcohol.

"Captain, I really am sorry," said Renji for the utmost time. Apologetic (and yet still looking like a punk), Renji drew from a burlap sack on his back a bottle of something and offered it to Ichigo, who took it and was ecstatic for a brief moment before his eyes adjusted to the moonlight and he realized it was government brand.

He set the bottle down with considerable distaste. "It's OK, Renji. We were bound to be figured out anyways. That guy," he said, jabbing an accusing finger at Ishida, whose retreating form was headed to the stables where they had left their horses. "I swear to God, half the bar figured out he was Quincy."

"He's a Quincy?" asked Renji, something undefinable in his eyes.

"Yeah, he is."

Renji gave Ichigo a curt nod and rushed off after Ishida at a surprisingly quick pace.

"What's up with him?" muttered Ichigo as he lay back in the grass, vaguely worried.

"He has a thing for Geboo," came the unexpected answer.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a girl leaning over him, clothed in a billowing summer dress. She was slim, fine boned as a bird, short, with flawless pale skin and black hair that fell insistently and endearingly into her eyes, a proper aristocrat and kind of beautiful in a sad sort of way. He realised that she must have been who Renji was sitting next to in the bar, although he wasn't so sure about her age now, especially with those huge blue eyes trained on him, wisdom and hidden half-truths dancing in their inscrutable depths.

Ichigo hadn't had much experience with girls, but he was pretty sure that somewhere along the line, someone—probably Keigo, the shameless pervert—had told him he wasn't supposed to ask about their age. Slightly unnerved he was taking advice from _Keigo, _he averted his eyes and assumed his usual vaguely offensive demeanor. "Geboo?"

She sat down beside him on the grass. "Geboo. It's a kid's game, the usual with the ridiculously overpriced trading cards in outlandish colours. It was kind of popular when Renji and I were kids, and he still has a collection—plastic sleeves and everything. The Quincy card was awesome."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "The Quincy card?"

She held his gaze, a twinkle in her midnight blue eyes. "10 000 attack power."

Ichigo put on a smile for her sake. In happier times, he might have laughed, but not now. Not with the threatening loom of a recurrence of Hollow, the terrifying disease that forced you to give up your humanity and turn into a rabid monster in a human shell. He had been infected once, in the summer of his ninth year, and his parents had been advised to put him down before he became a threat. There was little hope in a little year old kid beating the hollow inside, and it was common knowledge that hollows went for their families first. Nevertheless, his parents had kept him alive, which gave him enough time to beat the hollow inside into submission.

It took 3 days. 3 days in which he was possessed by a hollow.

It was common knowledge that hollows went for their families first.

In the torrential downpour of the summer of his ninth year, Ichigo had killed his own mother. He'd been foolish to think that it had ended there—a Hollow infection was always fatal.

He hadn't told anyone, of course. There was only the soft maniacal voice he remembered so well, whispering in his ear as he drowned in a sea of his own pathetic helplessness. Really, it was no wonder that he had taken to drinking so much that he could distinguish the sickly sweet aftertaste of government brand beer. Speaking of which, damn the aftertaste. He needed alcohol.

He fumbled for the bottle in the darkness, fingers brushing aside stalks of grass as he looked for it. Finally, his fingers closed upon cool glass, and he lifted the bottle up towards him—only to have it snatched away by nimble fingers.

He looked up and realised that the girl was still there, sitting across from him, and more importantly, that she had stolen his beer.

"Give that back," he mumbled hoarsely, a wild look in his eye. He reached out and grabbed her arm with more force than necessary, making her close her eyes in a wince. He let go almost immediately, afraid that he had hurt her too. It was more than likely since she was so _small_—

She opened her eyes, and they were the dark violet of thunderclouds. "You idiot," she hissed. "Stop moping around already!"

Ichigo looked on at her incredulously—it had taken his friends and family _years_—

"So you have a hollow inside you—"

_How did she—?_

"—all you have to do," she said, her voice a siren call through his haze, and all he could see was her bruised arm stretching towards his chest. "is get stronger!"

He felt the light touch of her hand, right over his heart, and the world jolted.


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo was sure something had just happened, that the world was different from what it was a moment ago, but before he had time to dwell on it, the girl had seized up, violently.

She had curled up into a ball in the grass, with her eyes shut tight, breathing heavily. It was obvious she was in great pain, but beyond that he couldn't be sure. But then her dress rode up in a spasm, and Ichigo understood.

It was a thick scar, the angry raised line stark against her pale skin. It stretched up the side of her thigh, disappeared beneath her dress, and then ended at the nape of her neck—an incredibly long scar. That had to have come from a serious wound, and it couldn't have healed properly.

So there was the source of her pain. But how was he to alleviate it? All throughout his military service, he had been trained to destroy, and not to heal. He didn't know what else to do, so he grabbed the beer bottle from where it had fallen and pressed it into one small white hand.

After a moment, she sat back up, letting out a small whimper she didn't think he heard at the action. She fumbled with the stopper for a moment, hands shaking. The stopper finally came free with a small _pop_ and she raised the bottle to her lips. She downed the bottle in one go, and when she was finished, the trembling had subsided somewhat.

She looked up at him, and he just stared at her for a moment. Her hair was rumpled, and there were bits of grass sticking out. There was a sheen of sweat on her unnaturally pale face, and there was blood where she had bitten through her lip in the height of the pain. Her dark eyes were wide, and held a depth of sadness Ichigo didn't think he'd ever be able to understand.

And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to gather her up and never let go.

Ichigo hadn't ever really been good at denying himself anything—so he did. He wrapped the girl up in his arms and shifted her into his lap. He engulfed her—she was so unbearably small.

"You can let go of me now," she mumbled after a long moment, and she sounded so fragile and broken he hugged her all the tighter. "I'm OK."

"Like hell you are," he growled back. "What happened to you? I've been in the military since I was _15_, and I haven't seen a scar like that until now."

She simply shook her head.

He didn't press the matter any further—after all, he'd hadn't ever said anything about his Hollow, and never really wanted to—and they stayed like that for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Renji was frantic when he came back.

He bustled about, readying the already ready horses, shouting out commands to nobody in particular and constantly berating himself for something or another. He just kept _moving_, hands busy, feet busy, mouth busy—anything to cover up the utter panic he felt at the pain of a single girl.

"I _told _her that she wasn't in any condition to come out to a bar. She didn't listen, she _never _listens," he muttered, working himself into a rage. But then he cast a stray glance at Rukia, who was still in Ichigo's lap, and all his anger left him. Seeing her curled up in sleep—really, the only reason he wasn't suffering because of his comments was that she wasn't in any position to hear them—reminded Renji that he could never really be _mad_ at Rukia, because she was Rukia and part of what he loved about her was that he had to love her regardless.

The fact that Rukia was really cute asleep might have also played a role in his decision, but Renji preferred not to think about it.

But Rukia was hurt, and if Rukia couldn't be at fault—Rukia could never be at fault as far as Renji was concerned—then there had to be someone else at fault. That someone else could really only be Ichigo, but he knew that wasn't fair either. The poor guy probably didn't even know he had a hollow inside him, let alone the fact that Rukia had given him the power to save his life.

The fact that Ichigo was a captain-class fighter might have also played a role in his decision, but Renji preferred not to think about it.

So he took his frustration out on himself, and tried not to offend anyone. Self-control wasn't exactly something you learned in the 78th district of Rukongai, so he considered the fact that he hadn't punched someone, _anyone_ yet miraculous.

Still, he had eased Rukia with the utmost care onto his horse. Then he had mounted himself, and didn't unleash a barrage of swears you could only learn in the 78th when the horse bucked and then proceeded to continue stubbornly in the wrong direction. He only caught up with Ishida and Ichigo after 5 minutes of forcing the horse into a reluctant gallop—this time in the right direction.

He was deeply jealous of Ishida, who seemed to have controlling his chestnut mare down to a science, and of Ichigo, whose big white stallion obeyed him without fail even as Ichigo rode him with about as much expertise as a sack of potatoes. His own black horse was small and ornery in comparison. He supposed that being a captain had its perks after all.

Ichigo caught him staring, and gave him a grin. "Don't be deceived," he said, patting the flank of his horse. "Hichigo here may look pretty, but he's as spirited as hell. He'd buck me off any day."

Renji gave him a wane smile and tried not to comment on his riding in response. If he said anything, he was sure it was going to be rude, and he was going for polite here. Well, at least anything but being diced into tiny pieces.

"Renji," said Ichigo, suddenly. "Is, uh," he paused, suddenly painfully aware that he didn't even know her name.

"It's Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki," supplied Renji helpfully.

Ichigo looked at him strangely, an eyebrow quirked in disbelief. "Like Byakuya Kuchiki?"

"Yeah," replied Renji, cringing a little at the name. Byakuya Kuchiki was, despite being his captain, one of his least favourite people. The man didn't even have the decency to show up to meet the members of his squad, leaving Renji to run all of the squad 6 as the lieutenant _and _the stand-in captain, and he insisted on setting the stupidest rules from the behind the scenes. If Kuchiki wasn't a nobleman and the last remaining descendant of the Kuchiki line, he'd have been fired long ago.

"They're not related," he added quickly, seeing the incredulous look on Ichigo's face. Rukia had met him on the streets of the 78th district—hardly a place you'd find the children of noble families.

Ichigo nodded. "So is Rukia going to be OK?"

"The truth is," he began hesitantly, his shoulders slumping a little. "I don't know. I mean, it isn't the first time this has happened. If she gets out of bed, walks around without using her wheelchair—her wound could act up. And Rukia, she's really stupid about listening to people about what's good for her, so her wound, it acts up all the time. And," Renji swallowed and broke eye contact, looked straight ahead. "I don't know if her body can handle that."

"Why don't you stop her?"

"I've tried. With my job at the military, I can't look after her properly, and she's always really bad at taking care of herself," responded Renji. He shot a glance at Ichigo, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Rukia is and always has been a selfless fool."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

OK, I've gotten some reviews regarding longer chapters and I'm going to address them here. Well actually, I've only gotten three, but that's out of 7 so that's actually 42.85714285714286% which is like half if you round like an idiot and ignore all conventions regarding-

OK, Doydle. Breathe.

So, first off, I've tried writing longer scenes for this fic. My first attempt at chapter one was stupidly huge. But I didn't post that, mainly because I felt that with the longer chapter, the writing wasn't tight enough and the whole thing was rather boring. Now, I'm not saying that all longer chapters are boring. I'm saying that I decided not to write a longer chapter because of personal reasons.

That decision affected my whole fic, because I whenever I write, I more or less write the same way throughout. It's terrible-I'll read a book and I won't be able to write anything new for a while because I'll write like the book's author.

So the scenes and things are going to stay shorter for now. I'll tell you what I'll do though, I'll start combining scenes in chapters so that they're 'longer'. But don't get me wrong, important scenes are probably still going to get their own chapter, and I'll do the combining in editing, which may take a while. That's another thing about how I write-I'll write one thing and I'll keep editing and editing and editing until it's presentable.

Most of the stuff I've posted thus far is not presentable, and I doubt I'll _ever_ post anything presentable.

Also, this is my first fanfic. Like, ever. So obviously, I'm inexperienced and stupid. I really do need reviews, because otherwise I'm going to stay that way.


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